


You Can Try To Lie

by cheesybadgers



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Javi, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Steve, Biting, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Dry Humping, F/M, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Potential emotional infidelity I guess but also discussions of consensual open marriage/polyamory, Questioning of Sexuality, Semi-Public Sex, Swearing, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesybadgers/pseuds/cheesybadgers
Summary: Javi and Steve are in deep denial about their feelings for each other, which have only grown since Connie took Olivia back to Miami. However, an incident at work changes everything and forces them to face up to the truth. Lots and lots of pining and feelings (and some smut, of course) ensue. Meanwhile, a cryptic message from Connie could also be the key to a happy solution for everyone. Loosely set during the early events of season 2, although for the purposes of this fic I’m ignoring canon re: Carrillo’s death, because ouch.
Relationships: Connie Murphy/Steve Murphy (Narcos), Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	You Can Try To Lie

**Author's Note:**

> The origins of this fic began way back in July 2020, but for various reasons it got left on the back-burner, until recently when I did some reworking/editing and I’m much happier with it now. I can’t believe how much this show and these two loveable idiots have been living rent free in my mind since I first watched it last Spring. I may never recover. Anyway, I hope you enjoy suffering with me 😂

They had been actively avoiding the issue for a while now. It had become the elephant in the room that neither man was prepared to acknowledge; especially when there were perfectly reasonable, logical explanations instead. Their line of work had always trained them to treat circumstantial evidence with caution and as far as Agents Peña and Murphy were concerned, there was nothing concrete here whatsoever; no definitive proof, no case to answer. Why pull at tenuous threads unnecessarily? Better to have all the facts first before hastily jumping to conclusions.

Alternatively, it was entirely possible that both men were in deep denial. Not that they would ever admit that, of course.

Their relationship had always leaned towards the dysfunctional, ever since Steve had first arrived on the scene. They had their own ways of dealing - or not - with things and didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but ultimately, they made a strong team, despite their penchant for unhealthy coping mechanisms sometimes blowing them off course and in separate directions.

There had, however, been a noticeable shift recently, which had only intensified since Connie had taken Olivia and left for Miami. Steve had been a complete and utter wreck. He had quickly spiralled down an all too familiar dark path that Javi had tried so hard to protect him from. To add fuel to the fire, frustrations were running higher and higher the longer their hunt for Escobar continued. They existed in such a concentrated, pressurised bubble that so few others were a part of; it was no wonder their relationship bordered on co-dependent, especially with Steve’s home life now in such disarray. 

It was the small occurrences, that in isolation could be easily waved away or innocently justified, but added together, told a different story. There had been many a late night holed up in their make-shift office; both men reluctant to call it a day, delaying going back to their hollow, empty apartments where they would yet again be forced to sit with their own thoughts, unable to find respite in sleep. Instead, they would share a bottle of whiskey and too many cigarettes over stacks of files that never seemed to shrink. Countless pieces of intel that more often than not led to nowhere other than a dead end. Or a dead body.

Add to that the stolen glances and awkward silences, the moments where what remained unsaid spoke the largest of volumes. Or the lack of respect for personal space as they leaned across the other for the cigarettes they now apparently shared. Not to mention the evenings spent watching old movies on Javi’s couch that ritualistically ended with Steve edging closer to him the more inebriated he became. Javi would turn in surprise at the newly added weight of Steve’s lolling head draped over his shoulder. Deep down he knew he should nudge him awake and tell him to go back to his own apartment, but in reality, he never budged and found the warmth next to him a comforting presence that finally allowed him to relax enough to get some much-needed shut eye of his own.

Clearly all of these instances were just the pressure of life in Colombia getting to them both; a situation born purely out of circumstances. Bound to happen when they’d been spending so much time in close quarters together.

That’s what Javi told himself to begin with at least, but in the recesses of his mind, he did tentatively wonder (or was that even hope?) whether there could be more to it. As soon as that thought emerged though, he immediately tried to dismiss it, bury it, stamp it down and pretend it had never crossed his mind in the first place. Problem solved.

Weird tensions aside, Steve was really the only proper friend Javi had made down here. Of course, he had a solid working relationship with Carrillo and the mutual respect between them was evident, but they mainly talked business. He’d forgotten what it was like to let anyone in beyond that. Not in his bed, obviously. That was the easy part...too easy. Anything to block out the carnage that surrounded him on a daily basis and get him out of his head. But he had forgotten what it felt like to show up when it counts, to have someone’s back no matter what, to resist the urge to bail at the first sign of trouble, despite all of his instincts screaming at him to run in the opposite direction. He’d never understood the point of sticking around someone long enough just to end up disappointing them, because that’s all he ever did in the end anyway. Alone had always been safer for everyone, something he could control.

He only needed to look at what he’d put Steve (and Connie) through with the Cali cartel to prove that theory. Of all the bad decisions he’d made and the lines he’d crossed, using Steve’s worst mistake against him was undoubtedly a low point. They’d never talked about it after Steve confronted him and Javi hadn’t outright admitted it was him who handed over the photos and tape to Navegante, but he didn’t need to. Steve knew, of course he did. He wasn’t stupid and it increasingly felt like Steve knew Javi better than he knew himself. It left him exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in years. Not since Lorraine. He’d done her a favour by walking away; maybe by his own twisted logic he thought he was extending the same courtesy to Steve. Showing him who he really was and what he was capable of early on before he got too attached.

They had moved passed it in their own way, though. Perhaps it was partly about easing his own guilt, like it so often was in the wake of his attempts at self-sabotage, but whether he was consciously aware of it or not, Javi had vowed to do better. 

He tried to warn Steve about involving himself with Carrillo’s missions. He wished he’d tried harder somehow, but he also knew Steve was a stubborn fucker who wouldn’t be told, so reluctantly accepted he needed to learn that one for himself. Nevertheless, seeing him so broken and traumatised in the aftermath had made his chest constrict and ache in a way he didn’t entirely understand, but faintly recognised; like a vaguely familiar acquaintance whose name you can’t quite recall.

He’d never been sure if Steve was aware of just how close to losing his job he had been after his arrest at the airport on the day Connie left, or how much Javi had done to make sure that didn’t happen.

Of course, Javi had been the one Steve called from the police station. He found him sobbing, broken and most definitely not sober. He’d been the one to pick him up in the middle of the night when he was finally released from custody, miraculously free of all charges.

He had driven him home, helped him into his apartment, undressed and manoeuvred him into the shower. Steve had stood motionless and shivering under the spray, despite the warmth cascading over him. He had winced as the jets of water bitterly stung against the ugly cuts and bruises that had formed on his right hand; a taunting reminder of his total and utter loss of control. Javi heard the noise from the other side of the shower curtain and had swiftly begun rooting through the bathroom cabinet for First Aid supplies. He didn’t have to look very far for what he needed, given Connie’s line of work. He didn’t have her skills or know-how, but he patched Steve’s hand up as best he could, after he had helped him out of the shower and into some fresh, clean clothes, obviously.

This routine had continued all night; small baby steps to get Steve from A to B each time. Steve never asked for any of it, but Javi never questioned whether he should be giving it either.

Early the next morning, whilst Steve slept having eventually passed out with exhaustion, Javi had been straight on the phone to plead Steve’s case at work. The good news was no decision had been made to fire him yet; the bad news was his antics had set in motion some major personnel changes, meaning they had just acquired themselves a new boss.

To his own horror, Javi couldn’t forget the way Messina had looked curiously at him when, in the heat of the moment and in complete desperation, he had accidentally blurted out “Please. I need him. I mean - _we_ need him - to stop Escobar. We both deserve to see this through.” 

He thought he’d just about saved himself and Messina never pushed it further, but he was unable to meet her eye for the rest of the week. It had been worth the toe-curling embarrassment though, as Steve had kept his job by the skin of his teeth.

Steve had soon learned the rules he’d always clung so desperately to didn’t really mean a great deal out here. It was as if he was suspended in a vacuum separate from the rest of the world, where all bets were off and the ends always justified the means. Whatever it takes, right? He’d strayed so far from the familiar, it was no wonder he had clung to the only person who truly understood what that really meant. He wasn’t sure how he was going to come out the other side of all of this, or whether he’d still have a marriage left to salvage, though. Whilst Connie had left that door open and had stressed that she just needed to focus on keeping Olivia safe for the time being, there was no denying they had become distant. 

His self-destructive tendencies made him hard to reach in the months leading up to her departure. He pushed her away, burying himself further into his work and to the bottom of the next bottle of alcohol, each one lined up ready to provide the desired numbing effect. He was plagued with recurring dreams of drowning; never quite sure if he was being pulled down, or if he was the one dragging others down with him into the endless murky depths. Each time, he would wake up gasping for breath, the sheets drenched in sweat and the air thick with guilt. He was a prisoner in his own head, haunted by the events he witnessed…no, _caused_. Or at least had a helping hand in, anyway. It was hardly surprising that Connie had been at a total loss.

He still loved her, though. Even when things started getting weird with Peña, he’d never stopped loving her. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with Peña and frankly, he didn’t want to find out either. His life was messy enough already and it was far easier and more logical to chalk it up to nothing more than convenient bonding over their fucked-up line of employment and the fact that they spent more nights than not in an alcoholic haze, where judgement was clouded and feelings easily misconstrued.

But then, he couldn’t stop replaying the last conversation he’d had with Connie when she had called him from the airport. What was it she had said? 

“We both know there’s been three of us in this marriage since we got here. Do whatever you need to get through it all in one piece. Just make sure you’re still you when it’s all over.”

At the time, Steve was in such a panicked state, Connie’s words had washed over him and he had automatically assumed she was talking about his work as the mystery third party. Logically, it made sense. They wouldn’t even have been here if it wasn’t for his job, after all. Any spouse would probably have left a long time ago and he wouldn’t blame them. He didn’t blame Connie. This certainly wasn’t the life they had planned or dreamed of in the early days of their relationship, but something was still gnawing at him the more he dwelled on it. 

“Since we got here.” Those four words echoed loudly round his head, pulling him back from the brink of sleep on multiple occasions and repeatedly demanding his attention. Connie had always understood his sense of duty and commitment to the cause, and she had accepted it without resentment. It was nothing new since taking this job and she had been just as instrumental in their decision to move to Colombia as Steve had been. They both had their own reasons for wanting in on this war. They had both seen the darkest side of the drugs trade and the collateral damage it left in its wake. So no, his job wasn’t a new factor in their relationship.

“Do whatever you need to get through it all in one piece.” What _did_ he need? Aside from several good nights’ sleep for a change and preferably a major breakthrough on ending Escobar’s reign of terror, it gradually occurred to him he needed to be soothed and placated, but most of all, to be tethered; to be stopped from drifting so far away from everything he knew that there was no longer a path back. He had done things in the last few years he didn’t know he was capable of and he needed someone to understand that. Not to try excuse or forgive him - because he knew he didn’t deserve it and he preferred to live with the discomforting consequences of his actions - but rather to acknowledge it for what it was and be prepared to restrain him when he did go too far.

The pieces were beginning to slot together now, as a lump gradually rose up in his throat, threatening to choke and suffocate him. He could only think of one person equipped to pull him back from the brink like this; someone who had already talked him down from the edge on several occasions. Someone who could stop him from pulling the trigger if needs be, because he wasn’t sure if he knew where to draw the line anymore and that terrified him.

Had Connie realised all of this as well? Had she known she was out of her depth and there was someone better suited to getting her husband through this mess in one piece? Was she giving them… _permission_?

As the penny slowly dropped, Steve couldn’t help but laugh wryly to himself at the complete absurdity of it, shaking his head in utter disbelief at even entertaining it as a possibility in his fucked-up mess of a brain. Clearly forgetting that this was the home of magical realism after all and therefore anything was possible.

As content as both men were to continue like this; pretending there was nothing to discuss, admit or even acknowledge in the first place, their hands were unexpectedly forced.

* * *

It had been a particularly stressful day on the job. Javi and Steve had been hauled in for a meeting with Messina and the Ambassador, in which they were on the receiving end of a dressing down for an op that hadn’t gone to plan the previous night. They had acted on intel that Javi may or may not have obtained by less than official means. Again. Someone had double-crossed them; several high profile sicarios had seen them coming a mile off and they were long gone by the time the DEA and Search Bloc arrived on the scene. So much for Javi’s reliable CI. Steve was fuming. He knew they had been pushing their luck recently and another wrong move could see them on a plane with a one-way ticket back to the States.

Tempers had flared in full view of passing, curious co-workers as Steve made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear, before storming off to the filing room to simmer down before he and his fist did something stupid (again) that he’d instantly regret.

Javi wasn’t done though and followed Steve to the otherwise deserted filing room, closing the door behind him to avoid bringing further attention to themselves.

Steve had apparently hit a raw nerve by bringing up Javi’s past record with informants. But of course, Javi was fully aware that Steve of all people had his reasons. Even so, he didn’t appreciate being yelled at by his partner in front of so many of their colleagues. It was humiliating and a low blow for Steve to use the past against him now, after everything they’d been through together. Steve was no saint with his recent behaviour either. They had both crossed the line numerous times. The more he stewed on it, the more riled up he became.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Murphy?” Javi hissed out, the resentment in his tone made more palpable by the small confines of the room they stood in.

Javi’s hands made contact with the front of Steve’s shirt, forcefully pushing him backwards against one of the metal shelving units, causing it to shake and catching Steve off guard. _Let’s see how he likes it_ , Javi thought to himself.

“Someone who doesn’t feel the need to fuck every attractive informant who makes eyes at me for a start,” Steve shot back, his own words taking him by surprise. _Fuck._ Too late to undo it now; the fuse had been lit and all he could do was watch it ignite.

His own hands moved up to the front of Javi’s tightly fitted shirt in retaliation; fisting his long, slender fingers into the fabric. The movement forced their bodies closer together, their faces now merely inches apart and near enough to be able to detect the subtle scent of cologne and cigarettes embedded into their clothes.

“And why would you care who I’ve been fucking? Jealous, are we?” Javi retorted, his voice suddenly taking on a low and suggestive edge that Steve instantly noted he’d never been on the receiving end of before.

Steve wasn’t sure what the fuck to do with that loaded question. Whatever his answer was going to be, he felt like he would be revealing too much. Silence would be just as damning, though.

“What exactly would I have to be jealous of, Peña?” he eventually scoffed, albeit rather unconvincingly.

Javi leaned a fraction closer and stared him down, huffing out a sarcastic laugh through his flared nostrils and barely concealing the knowing smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.

“You tell me,” he laid down like a gauntlet in a duel waiting to be picked up.

In a matter of seconds, the atmosphere had abruptly shifted; the air in the room now overwhelmingly dizzying and claustrophobic. The only sound to be heard was their laboured breathing, both men unconvinced the Colombian heat and lack of air conditioning were the root cause of their sudden light-headedness. Their eyes were locked on to each other’s, almost challenging and daring the other to make the next move.

“Well? Would you rather I fucked an attractive co-worker who makes eyes at me instead?” Javi ventured in a low whisper directly into Steve’s ear, breaking the heavy silence and making the decision for them about how this was going to play out.

His tongue darted to his bottom lip and ran tantalisingly along the length of it whilst training his gaze on Steve, as though he had finally captured his prey after a prolonged chase.

There was no mistaking which co-worker he was referring to, but for added emphasis, Javi slowly pressed his knee forward between his partner’s legs until it met the warmth of Steve’s crotch.

Javi paused, gauging Steve’s reaction and checking he hadn’t completely misread the situation. He was confident he hadn’t, but he needed to be sure.

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, but he made no attempt to move away. Instead, his grip on Javi’s shirt tightened and his hips instinctively rolled ever so slightly forwards, increasing the pressure in all the right places.

Re-assured Steve was into this as much as he was, Javi responded in turn by pushing his knee higher up towards the steadily growing bulge in Steve’s trousers, before slowly but firmly beginning to move his leg in deliberate circles.

Steve let out a low groan, grinding his hips downwards to meet Javi’s knee and gradually building up a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, Javi,” Steve gasped out, his hands moving from the front of Javi’s shirt to grab hold of his firm biceps for a sturdier grip.

By the same token, Javi’s hands slid down to Steve’s lean waist, his fingers digging in and using their newly adjusted position as leverage to slam himself harder up against Steve’s pliant body.

Steve marginally lowered his forehead to meet Javi’s, where they rested for several seconds as they tried to steady their breathing, but with little success. Their noses lightly brushed over each other, nuzzling back and forth; remnants of hesitance still preventing them from bridging the final gap, before the dam eventually broke and their mouths messily crashed together.

It was unrefined, frantic and desperate; a culmination of so much unspoken between the two of them. Perhaps it would always remain unspoken, but at least they had discovered an outlet of sorts for the time being.

They eventually broke apart, heavily panting against each other’s ears and mouthing roughly at the other’s neck instead now; leaving marks that would no doubt bruise and act as a visceral reminder days after the fact.

Javi’s jeans had become uncomfortably tight and damp, the effects of his own ministrations all too much. This didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, whose wild, blown pupils travelled down Javi’s trembling form and settled upon the visible tent at the front of his trousers.

Steve swiftly adjusted their position, flipping them round so Javi was now the one with his back up against the shelving unit. Steve pressed both men’s pelvises firmly up against each other, before snapping his hips forwards and forcefully rotating them, causing a delicious friction as their rigid lengths rubbed together. Only the thin material of their trousers prevented the skin-on-skin contact they would have undoubtedly preferred, but needs must when they were in this precarious and semi-public situation.

“Fuuuuuck Steve – what - what are you doing? SHIT!” Javi managed to splutter after letting out an elongated, guttural moan that went straight to Steve’s now heavily weeping cock.

The noises falling from his partner’s half-opened mouth were like nothing Steve had heard before, and he could hardly believe he was the one causing them.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I? Besides, you didn’t seem to mind me slamming you against the wall last time,” Steve faltered in between his bracing thrusts, his breathing now wrecked and shallow as his much-needed release grew closer.

“Do you ever shut up?” Javi asked, before eagerly demonstrating his irritation by firmly sinking his teeth into Steve’s earlobe.

“Only if you make me,” Steve moaned back with a cocky smirk that he knew would have exactly the desired effect on Javi. Steve also knew how much that in itself would infuriate him, which caused his smirk to morph into a full-blown grin.

Right on cue, Javi impatiently smashed his mouth up against Steve’s, biting roughly down on his bottom lip and thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth. Steve groaned as their tongues danced together in an uncoordinated but needy fashion. These were the only desirable noises Javi wanted to hear from him right now.

They clung tightly to each other, grinding as hard as they could muster, grabbing hold of and squeezing any body part they could reach to try and steady themselves. Javi’s back was repeatedly hitting the shelves behind him, which caused several files and their inlays to flutter to the floor; not that either of them noticed with the obscene amount of whimpering and grunting sounds they were emitting, as they chased each other towards their peaks.

“Javi, I’m gonna…” Steve warned, as he felt the familiar ache and tightening in his balls; his hands now on Javi’s back, sliding up and underneath his shirt where his fingernails dug into soft, hot skin. Another reminder that this was real and they were finally doing this. 

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” Javi gently soothed, a sudden and stark contrast to his tone only moments earlier.

He could sense the pure, raw need in Steve’s voice; a need he couldn’t help but want to meet for reasons he suspected he knew, but didn’t want to acknowledge, even now. This was apparently just how it was with Steve whether he wanted to admit it or not; he’d come to him with those puppy dog eyes and a particularly petulant brand of helplessness that Javi was powerless to resist.

One of Javi’s hands moved up to grip the nape of Steve’s neck, before sliding upwards to card his fingers through the blonde’s sweaty strands of hair.

With a protracted sigh, Steve leaned into Javi’s touch; a touch he chased and craved. A touch he had come to realise grounded and anchored him in a place where it was all too easy to lose yourself.

With that revelation, Steve’s body tensed from head to toe and he came with a shuddering cry; his face buried in Javi’s neck and his mouth and teeth pressed down firmly on his shoulder to try and muffle the whimpering sounds that were falling uncontrollably from his lips.

Javi nuzzled his head against Steve’s as he worked him through his high, his hand still lightly tracing from the back of the blonde’s neck up into his tousled hair.

Steve remained with his face nestled into the spot where Javi’s neck met his broad shoulder and showed no signs of wanting to move just yet. To Javi’s surprise and delight, Steve slowly slid the material of his shirt to one side and began placing kisses up and down the previously hidden skin, starting off with featherlight touches that made Javi’s whole body quiver, instantly raising goosebumps.

Sensing that Javi was enjoying this, Steve quickly upped the pace and found himself biting down, nipping and sucking until he left marks. Definitely no denying the evidence now.

“Shiiiiiit, Murphy, you fucker,” Javi choked out, his body squirming as the fingers that were still tangled through Steve’s hair tightened their grip.

Steve lightly chuckled before continuing his handiwork and resumed bucking himself against Javi, who was quickly starting to unravel beneath him.

Steve was transfixed by the fact he was privy to this display; that the brooding DEA agent who had felt like a closed book to him for so long was falling apart so completely under his touch and mouth. It was equally thrilling and terrifying to realise how much trust had been placed in him to be allowed to witness this, let alone be the cause of it.

“Fuuuuck Steve, fuck fuck fuck, so close…” Javi rasped out, his jaw tightly clenching as his body began to jerk and his fingers gripped Steve’s hair with greater urgency, tugging roughly in an attempt to retain a semblance of control; over himself, or the situation, or both, he wasn’t even sure anymore.

“That’s it baby, just let go and come for me,” Steve purred in that deep, sinful drawl of his.

Javi stood no chance with a line like that. With one last animalistic growl, his eyes were forced shut in pure ecstasy, clutching Steve as close to his own body as was physically possible, needing to feel secure against his warm, solid mass as he finally surrendered to more than he probably registered in the moment. His hips stuttered and spasmed as he spilled inside his jeans; hot, thick spurts trickling down his thigh and soaking through the denim.

Neither men moved for several seconds, as they let their breathing rates recover and gradually came back down to earth. They were both a dishevelled mess, as was the room they stood in, with files and papers strewn all over the floor. They weren’t quite sure how or when that had happened.

Steve reluctantly lifted his head up from Javi’s shoulder and they accidentally caught each other’s eye. Javi had an almost unreadable expression, but he hadn’t bolted straight out of the door at least, so Steve figured it could have been worse.

Javi slowly brought his hand up to one of Steve’s flushed cheeks, pausing briefly and hovering slightly above it before connecting his fingers in a gentle embrace.

Steve held his breath for a moment, searching the other man’s eyes for an indication of what he was trying to say. He thought he saw flashes of warmth, need and want, along with hints of trepidation, before they were gone again.

They weren’t sure how long they stood like this; in reality, it was likely only a matter of seconds, however, before they could indulge in the moment any further, they heard voices approaching down the corridor. They froze, before quickly realising that the voices and footsteps were getting louder.

“SHIT!” both men simultaneously hissed, as they pulled apart from each other with the force of repelling magnets.

They hurried to attempt to hide any traces of evidence, although with both of them still trying to catch their breath and a sheen of fresh sweat now coating their faces - not to mention how they were sporting matching sticky wet patches on their crotches - they didn’t fancy their chances.

They straightened out their shirts and smoothed down their hair as best they could, before Javi quickly scooped up the fallen files and papers from the floor and practically threw some of them at Steve.

They both strategically placed some of the papers down their fronts with one hand, whilst pretending to be engrossed in a file in their remaining free hands.

Not a moment too soon, as just as they had finished re-arranging themselves, the door flew open. It was Messina of all people.

“Ah, there you both are. I thought we were going to have to send Search Bloc to find you. Speaking of, Carrillo wants to see you in his office in 10 minutes,” she instructed.

“Yes boss, of course,” they replied in unison, whilst continuing to look intently at the files in front of them, as though they held the key to bringing down the entire Medellín cartel in one fell swoop.

Considering they were highly experienced DEA agents on the tail of one of the most dangerous men in Colombia, neither of them could have looked more conspicuous if they tried.

Javi was sure Messina was looking at them (him in particular) with bemused suspicion and a raised eyebrow, but he’d have to deal with that potential humiliation another day. For now, it was time to get back to work and pretend like nothing had ever happened. Business as usual, then.

* * *

Of course, in reality they couldn’t pretend anymore, not now. After cleaning themselves up in the toilets as best they could, they attempted to continue with their work; however, neither of them could concentrate on anything.

Their meeting with Carrillo was an unmitigated disaster. The Colonel was a formidable force of nature at the best of times, but having the DEA’s finest unable to string together coherent sentences, knocking coffee all over the maps he was trying to work with and spending the entire meeting attempting to look anywhere but at each other, he was about ready to commit double murder.

He eventually admitted defeat, sighing loudly in frustration before calling an end to the whole charade, grumpily muttering on his way out about how they better have kissed and made up by tomorrow.

The door clicked shut behind Carrillo and plunged the remaining two men into an awkward, heavy silence.

Javi was sure the air around him had become thinner in the last few seconds, either that or his shirt collar was getting tighter. The same shirt collar that only an hour or so earlier Steve had swept aside to suck on his neck whilst he got him off. He could feel his skin beginning to bruise already, which sent a jolt of arousal through his groin. _Fuck_.

He couldn’t do this, not right now. He needed to get out, to get some air, to get away from Steve, who was everywhere as it was. He could still smell him on his skin, on his clothes and in his mouth. It was all too much.

Javi attempted to clear his throat and pulled at his collar in mild panic as he felt himself beginning to spiral.

“I need to -” he began, slightly breathless as he turned towards the exit.

“-Javi, wait. Please. Don’t you think we need to talk about this?” Steve pleaded, momentarily stopping Javi in his tracks.

“Not here. Not now,” Javi replied bluntly, still desperate to shut the conversation down before it had even started.

“Well, when and where, then?”

“I dunno. I’ll, er, I’ll call you.”

With that, Javi made to yank open the door as fast as possible, but Steve got there quicker and slammed it shut again before Javi could make his escape.

Javi turned back to face Steve, whose arm was still pressed up against the door behind him, Steve’s height advantage effectively pinning Javi in place.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Javi? _You_ started this! You don’t get to just cut and run like I’m one of your CIs,” Steve retaliated, trying to keep his voice low given where they were.

“What do you want me to say, Steve? How do you actually see this going? You have a wife and a kid waiting for you in Miami. Let’s not pretend I’m not just some little experiment for you until you go back to your old life,” Javi shot back.

“You think that’s all this is?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Javi regretted his words almost as soon as they left his mouth, the hurt in Steve’s eyes plain to see. He knew that wasn’t fair. What was new to Steve wasn’t altogether new to Javi, at least not in the physical sense. He’d done that (and more) plenty of times with other men and yet, those encounters had never been like this. This – whatever _this_ was – was something else entirely. It was something much messier and far more devastating.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, that’s what’s going to happen and we both know it,” Javi stated matter-of-factly, the resignation already weighing heavy in his voice before Steve had even had chance to explain.

That was, after all, the only way this could realistically end. He would never ask Steve to choose; there would be no point, even if he was that selfish. Steve belonged with his family in sunny Miami; not in the shadows here, with him.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Javi…not if you don’t want it to be,” Steve offered cryptically.

Javi’s brows furrowed deeper in confusion, not quite following where Steve was going with this. Had he suddenly forgotten he was married?

“Oh, so Connie is just going to be okay with us doing this, is she?” Javi scoffed.

“As a matter of fact, I – I think she is, yeah,” Steve replied, almost distrusting his own words and having to quickly reign in the urge to burst into laughter as he could still hardly believe it himself.

“What do you mean?” Javi queried, his eyes narrowing further. 

Javi was completely lost now and could do little other than stare at Steve in bewilderment, waiting for him to explain what the fuck he was talking about.

“It’s a long story for another time, but I - er - I think she’s known for a while. About us, I mean. I think that’s partly why she left, to give us space to figure things out,” Steve attempted to explain as best he could, without bombarding Javi with too much information in one go.

“Steve, are you drunk again? Because none of this is making any fucking sense!” Javi hissed impatiently, almost convinced now that his partner had lost his mind, or perhaps banged his head a little too hard against the filing shelves earlier.

Steve laughed and shook his head, scarcely able to believe that, despite the reputation Javi had for being quite the enviable bad ass DEA agent, he couldn’t half be an oblivious idiot sometimes.

“Since when did anything make any fuckin’ sense round here?” Steve countered, as if that explained everything perfectly; this time allowing a hint of a laugh to pass his lips in acknowledgement of just how discombobulating everything actually was down here.

Even Javi had to concede on that one, tilting and briefly nodding his head in agreement with a wry chuckle.

“Just...trust me, okay? I know it all sounds fuckin’ batshit crazy and ridiculous, but please just trust me on this one. I’ll talk to her and we’ll figure it out. All of us. If – if you want to that is?” Steve asked tentatively, softening and lowering his voice as though he was attempting to soothe a frightened animal.

Javi had questions. Questions on top of questions about what all of this meant and how the fuck it was going to work, but he held on to it all for the time being and simply nodded instead. A lot of things didn’t make sense right now, but deep down, somehow, he believed Steve when he said they would figure it out, because they always did.

“Of course I trust you,” he stated emphatically, as if there was any way that could ever be in doubt.

“And for the record, you’re not an experiment,” Steve continued. “In the filing room earlier...afterwards. I’ve never - with a guy before but - the way you looked at me – I mean - the way we _both_ looked at each other - you felt it too, right?”

Steve stumbled clumsily over his words, desperate to try and find the right ones; not wanting to say too much whilst he was still attempting to make sense of his own feelings, but needing to say enough for Javi to know he was serious. Because he was. He still didn’t really understand any of it, or how any of it had happened, but he knew his feelings for Javi were as real as his feelings for Connie and that’s all he could focus on right now.

Javi froze as Steve’s question hung in the air. He realised this was finally it. No backing out, no more running away, no more hiding.

He took a deep breath and firmly placed one arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer whilst his other hand slid upwards to cup Steve’s face, gently stroking his thumb over light blonde patches of stubble; more certainty and conviction in his expression and touch this time around.

“Yes. I felt it too,” Javi whispered, quiet enough that only the two of them could possibly have heard it, but still spoken out loud and on the record nonetheless.

Their lips met again, softer and slower now, as they let the gravity and implications of their words settle between them. There was no denying the truth anymore.


End file.
